Best Stir Up Poems
Imagine all the people
who trade in human life,
imagine all the reasons
given to this particular vice.
I visualize the rivers
that run with coagulated blood,
I visualize the tyrant
that stir the waters good!
Imagine all the evil
where nightmares are conceived,
imagine all the weepers
locked in harmony.
I visualize a great peace
when man is down and out,
I visualize a yearning
to stir up warring lout!
Imagine all the carrion
fleeing this earthly scroll,
imagine all the zombies
them humans without soul.
I visualize the populous
with only one track mind,
I visualize the despotic master
not too far behind!
Imagine all the wrongdoers
that wait for the morrow,
imagine all the innocent
with aggravated sorrow.
I visualize his disciples
locked in earthly battle,
I visualize all intellect
smitten with ancient prattle!
Imagine all the dreamers
that dream in psycho colours,
imagine all the dead ones
John Lennon and others.
I visualize the sky
that reflect the sombre waters,
I visualize the time
they’ll be no virgin daughters!
Imagine all the children
born with colour blindness,
imagine all the peace
driven by human kindness.
I visualize a new order
maybe for the best?
I visualize the establishment
being put to the test!
Imagine all the people
with lives of eternal bliss,
imagine all the barriers
created when living with this.
I visualize heaven here
in this heathen place,
I visualize the angel
in pure virgin white lace!
Imagine all the new born
scanner pattern at birth,
imagine all of today’s crime
eliminated through death.
I visualize a dossier
of PLC news speak,
I visualize authoritarianism
of every aspect!
Imagine all the cloning
created for human part,
imagine all the respect
donated to this particular art.
I visualize the unscrupulous
desperate for existence,
I visualize the farm of haste
the plough of insistence!
Imagine, Mother Shipton
prophecies all came true,
imagine only one statement fails
the end of the world.
I visualize even then
common sense will prevail.
I visualize only Jesus Christ
will forecast the ultimate end!
© Harry J Horsman 1993
With no cover ups, let me be frank
At times my mind goes utterly blank.
When I sit down to write a poem
From topic to topic, my mind does roam
But nothing comes to spark off a rhyme
Often I feel the words do not chime
Today as I sat down to write something,
I ended up conjuring nothing.
No thoughts came to stir up my brain
And no topic I found- save my strain.
But I wasn’t ready to willfully give up
And waited impatient for my mind to clear up
I thought I shall settle with ‘Compassion’
But alas, it was charged with no passion.
The urge to write had grown into a fad
And I felt I was growing altogether mad
Feeling feverish with a compelling obsession
I was moving to a state of aggression
Driven by a fiery fancy to express
And a tormenting desire unable to suppress
With a mental state somewhat fierce
I climbed up and down the stairs.
I stood upside down and raked my head
So that a little poem, into it would be fed
Feeling dizzy, I stood suddenly upright
But on my head hung a heavy weight
I poured some water over my head
But knew my fever hadn’t fled
Madly pacing across the room
I tripped and fell down on a broom
Rising, I screamed with all my might
Making the household ring in fright.
‘What the hell is it?’ I did shout
And wriggled in pain as from gout
In mad frenzy, I ran round the house
No one knew the reason for my fuss
Soon it dawned on me that I needed some rest
For I was far more than stressed
So I sat down and closed my eyes
Thinking, attempting to squeeze out a poem is unwise.
I don’t know how long I sat in meditation
On waking up I got a fresh direction
From the grip of an entangling rigor
I restored my sanity and vigor
The sun had gone out of sight
And the moon was beautiful and bright
It was already growing late
And I put off my futile fight.
"Happy Easter To You!", is the greeting I hear them shout!
Alas, I just lamely roost here, brood, ponder and pout!
I've worked for weeks making eggs and I'm all tuckered out!
All this hoopla about rabbits, I can really do without!
Me, my mom, aunts, nieces and innumerable distant cousins,
Have been producing eggs by the gross and by the dozens.
Every Easter 'tis those wily bunnies earning the gratitude,
Leaving me and my kin with a very fractious attitude!
Moms send their kids to rob the eggs from 'neath our breast,
Telling them the rabbits made them - this I vehemently protest!
I'm thinking of a sitdown strike come Lent next year,
To frustrate those crafty varmints with a message loud and clear!
The kids make appalling designs on the beauties we produce,
And even tint our chicks in lurid hues, adding to the abuse!
The rabbits get all the glory and stir up all this commotion!
They don't lay eggs! I'll disabuse folks of that silly notion!
If I sound somewhat frustrated, well I reckon I am,
As those cunning scoundrels perpetuate their mythical scam!
Us chickens will just have to press on with our usual grace.
The truth will out, then we'll "cluckle" at the egg on their face!
Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
(© All Rights Reserved)
Placed No. 3 in A Chicken Poem In Memory of Armano Aurocano Rock Star
Mama Africa,
Land of my ancestors' birth;
Source of all mankind,
the once Shangri la of mother earth.
Stir up the spirit of the Mau-Mau in vibrato on the bongo.
Your ways are far higher than the crags of the Kilimanjaro.
Let the cry for freedom rides the winds of the Serengeti,
and the walls of segregation fall like confetti.
With careful utterances,
ransack the minds of the pig-headed souls.
Uhuru milele! Milele bure!
Adamantly, gluttons deprive her black gold.
In the villages, griots will invoke a new story.
Follow the way of the lion,
and watch out for the hyenas.
When the rivers are dry in Tanzania,
danger resides in the mud.
Remember; when liberty is threaten in Somalia,
freedom is written in blood.
Blood stained her crevices with love;
black sons’ and black daughters’ blood.
The luscious, long, green grass
Sways and sweeps and flows.
How far, how fast this wind will travel,
No one really knows!
This same wind could stir up
Whirls and waves in all seas.
This powerful force makes nature dance.
Our senses this does please.
Though it can be disruptive
On a minor or major scale,
It can uproot trees, tear roofs off houses,
It can delay or prevent sails...
It still has its boundaries.
This can be assuring to all, to me and you.
We can't see the wind,
But it's effects are in plain view.
Sometimes this wind teases us,
Playing with our hair,
Or has us swatting at thistles and leaves,
Flying through the air.
The wind can also be so kind,
To tell us our coffee's hot.
Or to move our rude cigar,
From it's blowing spot.
Wind can be a gentle reminder,
To put on our kid's jacket,
Or to lower our voice,
During a downwind racket.
It is always there soft or strong,
And never with a hue, that is...
We can't see the wind,
But it's effects are in plain view.
19-September-2021
It's with great sadness and a lot of discomfort that I write
about an issue that needs addressing and brought to light
Several poets have long known
about a poet whose cover is blown
and cheats by entering their own contests. That's not right.
What would you think of a poet entering contests of their making
and then winning high placements with names they are faking
That's stooping pretty low
I really wish it wasn't so
So I hope it comes to an end after this exposure and muckraking
*******************
It's not my intent to stir up trouble with this post, but in all good conscience I feel the need to inform all of you who write for contests that this has been happening for some time. This is not an act of bitterness or ill will, but if this poet reads this, know that if it doesn't stop I'll report you to TPS. I don't understand why a decent poet would do something like this.
Winter days are cold and gray while summer’s warm and bright.
Snow covered mountain tops melt away when the time is right.
Pouring rains and hurricanes will stir up now and then.
Storms appear from year to year no less than dear old friends.
Refrain:
All the good and bad and sweet and sad pass by us every one;
all the lows and highs and tear filled eyes and races still not run.
All the gentleness and sweet success and love along the way,
everything we’ve learned every twist and turn
every moment of each day.
Guitar songs and things we long for growing up too fast;
rocket dreams and what it means to let go of the past.
Picking, choosing, winning, losing, walking in the rain;
home run balls and strike-out calls are how we play the game.
Refrain:
All the good and bad and sweet and sad pass by us every one;
all the lows and highs and tear filled eyes and races still not run.
All the gentleness and sweet success and love along the way,
everything we’ve learned every twist and turn
every moment of each day.
Early morning rise and shine the sky is painted bright;
so many hues for me and you to make us feel all right.
‘Till the end of day as sunshine fades and darkness closes in;
we say our prayers to God somewhere wondering
where does this life end.
Refrain:
All the good and bad and sweet and sad pass by us every one;
all the lows and highs and tear filled eyes and races still not run.
All the gentleness and sweet success and love along the way,
everything we’ve learned every twist and turn
every moment of each day.
All the gentleness and sweet success and love along the way,
everything we’ve learned every twist and turn
every moment of each day.
Awakened Senses
Aboard my boat on winding river here,
with anchor dropped, all seems so calm, serene.
I breathe in deep the fragrant river air;
the smell of water, breeze, the scent of clean.
These river smells stir up a sister sense...
the scrumptious, luscious flavors of the sea;
The ocean cod, the shrimp and flounder too...
The river wakes my senses wondrously.
Sandra M. Haight
~3rd Place~
Contest: Poems That Did Not Place and More
Sense of Taste ~ New Poem
Concept: River
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Judged: 09/14/2015
.
6/8/17
Coming in faster than speed racer
Heart colder than a glacier
Trying to duplicate the flavor
Another clout chaser
With or without a pace maker
And bracers
Soft as a wafer
Yet another copy cat
You're wrong for that
Going to one up you chumps, with or without a hockey mask
For ages I've been at the bottom, reaching for the top
More than a lot
Attempting to plot and stir up the pot
Whether the temperature cold or hot
Like it or not
They'll get caught
And put on the spot
Having to pay the cost
For such foolish talk
Regarding any parameters
Days and nights may or may have not been spectacular
I guess there's always been scavengers
And bandwagoners
As well as opposition and challengers
Whether or not their ambassadors
During any date on the calendar
It was either solved or obscure, by any medical examiner
Above and below any fields with or without lavender
We had a garden gnome named Griselda
the bane of our small bungalow
she was nasty and mean, at times quite obscene
the worst that you ever could know!
Her garden mate, Gregor, had feared her
but one day he mustered the nerve
with all of our backing, to send the girl packing
with cleverness, cunning and verve.
But she was vindictive by nature
and wouldn't let 'bygones' be gone
if it took all her years, she would stir up our fears
her plans were all plotted and drawn.
She waited 'til we'd quite forgotten
her villainous, vile, evil reign
then with fierce aggression, she took bold possession
of our lovely, dear, docile domain.
She poisoned the pansies and lilies
and shredded the sweet climbing vines
she disturbed my repose, when she broke the windows
with a shriek that sent chills up my spine.
She tore down my front porch swing
shattering the flowerpots and planters
mad wreckage in her wake, as she sought all to break
taking off to the back at a canter.
I squared off to defend my back garden
grabbed whatever I thought I might wield
at first, on my guard, as I entered the yard
I found she was hardly concealed...
And 'though she seemed alone in the garden
I soon found that I was mistaken
for, succinctly put- I was bound head to foot
and carried off, unhurt but shaken.
Griselda had built quite an army
it seems, in her time far away
for gremlins and trolls, from the caves to the knolls
were under her terrible sway.
They answered her orders directly
and smugly, she smiled and she smirked
a gleam in her eyes as she planned my demise
as her minions continued to work...
Heaving in stones from the quarry
they were piling them higher and higher
and my strength gave away as to my dismay
I saw they were building a pyre!
But Gregor'd escaped all their notice
as he'd hid 'neath the back garden shed
and despite his wee size, he would prove her demise
at his bellow, her company fled.
He used a cheap trick, an enchantment
that he bought from an old witch named Rue
and it seemed there were thousands (as far as the eye scanned)
of Gregors that came into view!
Her face was distorted with terror
and she promised that she'd stay away
and off like a blip- she jumped on a ship
and sailed to somewhere near Bombay.
I fall in love so easily
The simplest act of kindness
often deeply moves me
I fall in love so effortlessly
Hearing a stranger's voice
often stir up fond memories
Love can be found in all things
that people do and say
Searching for love can be such a joy
Especially when you don't know
exactly what you're looking for
Falling in love
is the gentlest fall
It's the most wonderful trip of all
Falling
falling
falling ...
No matter how many times the words tumble out
Your heart always get caught
by the beauty of its calling
We are women of impact confident and assured
Courageous and fearless who know the score
We have been set aside to accomplish lofty goals
And because of our faith we've been called to take control
Women destined for greatness effective and ensured
Women impacting change now and forevermore
But in order to be a woman of God you must remove all doubt
And know the power of your faith in God will always work it out
#All we do is win with God by our sides
Victory is guaranteed no excuses nor we tried
For without faith it's impossible to even achieve
All that you're destined for and all that you'll receive
Just don't allow the world's moral compass which has gone astray
To convict you and convince you to sin and to stray
Now ready to stir up the gift that God has bestowed to you
#All We Do is win as long as we stay faithful and true
Gaslighted: Abused and lied to
Script is flipped when I challenge you
Smoothed over with wink & back-pat
Now I know, there's a word for that
Body-shamed: Self made disgusting
Cruel words believed, soul so trusting
Belittled- whether thin or fat
Now I know, there's a word for that
Demagogues: Hateful, evil plots
Stir up the worst that mankind's got
Republican or Democrat
Now I know, there's a word for that
Whitesplained: Ignored, talked over- I'm
Made null, a lifetime redefined
(Being white), you know, and that's that
Now I know there's a word for that
Reading, learning, feels less alone
Others' lives are much like my own
And now we've had this lovely chat
You know, too- there's a word for that
What time is this
Where once we wait
Whilst questions stir up great debate
Upon this place a storm doth brew
Encroaching in on me and you
To make a stand or make a choice
Have a heart and have a voice
Be not thee fooled by lovely lies
Made to keep well in disguise
A truth thus far which few have seen
Veiled behind some wicked scene
Know what we are and why we’re here
Be not thee bound by useless fear
For power lies in focus held
In knowledge found and wisdom felt
Creative thought shall be the key
Unraveling untold mysteries
With hence unknown abilities
Bestowed with light we’ve yet to see
Transform a world of pain and hate
Into grandest dreams create
This time, this place
No more we wait
Through storms of violence, fear and hate
The very catalyst we need
To know the truth which sets us free
Friday night's here at last ...lets have a blast.
Teenagers dash to discos ...ready to dance
to throbbing beats and combo drums
rythm and blues....kicked off shoes
as rock and roll pours out the heat..
Swaying along... couples dance and sing
swinging to the beat ...that's everything.
reggae to hip hop....... rap and soul
stir up emotions but take its toll.
Kissing and necking .....lips close around bottle necks
draining the draft.....drowning the thought of dreary days gone by
no thought of days to come...or care about outcome.
Older women start weekend cleaning.
Scouring cupboards, doing laundry,
dusting tops... flying mops
vacuming carpets...putting out garbage
no end in sight for the chores to be done
till the night is come and work is done
they slog and clean... till everything gleams.
Old men hurry to the corner bars
for a drink, a chat and a meeting with pals
to watch the wrestling match.....on the TV screen.
Till mignight they stay.. drinking their way through
bottles of beer, whiskey and rum
till their eyes water...and tongues grow numb.
Home to their wives they weave a crooked path
can't even see their way in the dark
Cursing themselves for drinking too much
now sitting ducks for thugs on the watch.
They wake up next morning asleep on the couch
shoes in their pockets ......stale breath in their mouths.
Money's gone...so too are wife and sons.
yet never has there been a house so clean.
Have they learnt a lesson...we shall never know
for the habits continue every Friday night
No one seems to get it right
Enjoy your weekends....but maintain self - repect
for when that is lost...what comes next.?